


Black Velvet Rose

by Zara_Zee



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Bottom Jensen Ackles, M/M, Murder, Organized Crime, Prison, Prison Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28215291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zee/pseuds/Zara_Zee
Summary: Jared is the nephew of a Memphis crime boss, sent to Haywood County Correctional Facility pending his trial for murder. Jensen is his loyal boyfriend. The boys haven’t evenseen, let alonetouchedeach other in months, but Jared’s uncle has managed to arrange an illicit conjugal visit for them andfuck, are they desperate.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	Black Velvet Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN_Masquerade over on LJ. Apparently plot and back story are my kinks, because they always creep in and take over whenever I try to write pure, unadulterated porn. Sigh.

Jensen takes his time getting ready. Showers slowly, enjoying the plentiful hot water and excellent water pressure, and then slicks himself open, one finger at a time, until he’s up to four.

He chooses his outfit carefully; tan chinos, a blue-grey Henley, and blue-grey loafers—because they don’t have laces. He leaves his hair product-free and doesn’t use cologne.

He pouts a blue-steel at the mirror and then pirouettes. He looks…respectable.

The doorbell rings and Jensen tilts his head and frowns. He’s not expecting anyone. Everyone knows he’s going to see Jared today. 

Jensen lives at Juniper Apartments on Southern Avenue in Memphis, which is close to both the university and the Memphis Symphony Orchestra, and thus incredibly convenient for him. He’d wanted Jared to move in with him when Jared started college this year, but Jared’s Uncle wouldn’t allow it, insisting that Jared continue to live at home.

Jared’s Uncle lives in a gated community in Germantown, a twenty minute drive away. He’s not a Memphis native, like Jensen though. Jeff Morgan moved here four years ago from Biloxi to take over the governorship of Memphis. And no, he’s not in politics. He’s a high-ranking member of the Dixie Mafia.

Jensen had been in his final year of high school at the time, living with his foster mom Sam and working as a pool boy for several of the big houses in the various gated communities of Memphis’s affluent south eastern suburbs.

It had been a good gig. Not so much the scooping leaves out of swimming pools part of the job; but it _had_ afforded Jensen the opportunity to gather reliable intel on the security measures each house had in place. For a fee, he could pass that intel on to…interested parties. Or even provide assistance in evading it. He could copy a key here, leave a window open there. He could even disable an alarm system if the price was right.

The job also allowed him to make friends with powerful men. Men who took one look at Jensen and could tell that if they tipped him well enough, Jensen would blow more than the leaves out of their pools. 

Jensen was living proof that you could take the boy out of the downtown slums, but the lessons learned there were not so easily forgotten.

And then Jensen met Jeff Morgan, and the rest, as they say, was history.

Jeff had a light, silver-grey beard, rings on every finger, and a chunky gold watch on his wrist. Jeff liked to wear silk shirts and show off his chest hair and yet, somehow, was entirely straight and not in the slightest bit interested in Jensen’s many charms. 

Jeff was interested in him for different reasons.

One of those reasons was to study with his nephew, Jared Padalecki.

Jared Padalecki was Jeff’s late sister’s son and he was a bright kid, but he was also something of a sporting prodigy. He was an accomplished lacrosse player who had already been snapped up by the local high school’s senior team, despite only being fifteen. He was also a third dan karate black belt, who’d won the fighting part of the National Junior Karate Championship for his age group and weight grade, just prior to moving to Memphis.

Jensen knew a little something about being a prodigy, only in his case it wasn’t sport he excelled at, it was music. If it had strings, Jensen could play it. He had a good singing voice and could play guitar while belting out a country ballad better than a lot of the guys trying to make it big in Nashville, but his real talent was the violin.

The Memphis Symphony orchestra had been after him since he was fourteen, but Sam wouldn’t give her permission, insisting that he focused on school. He’d signed up the moment he’d turned eighteen and…she’d been right. He missed so much school that he had to repeat senior year, a fate that Jeff Morgan was keen for his nephew to avoid.

So Jensen repeated senior year and he studied with Jared and Jeff Morgan became his only customer for intel. Jeff also made it clear that from here on in Jensen would only be blowing leaves for clients, because, as it turned out, Jared Padalecki was more than interested in Jensen’s many charms and Jeff thought they’d be good together.

Jared was smokin’ hot; there was no question about that. But he was young. That first year, Jensen tolerated his advances with fond amusement.

The next year, Jensen went to college on a music scholarship and Jared became a high school junior. He had a growth spurt…and the growth spurt just didn’t seem to stop. By the time he was a high school senior, Jared was 6ft3, he’d bulked up considerably and Jensen had stopped thinking that Jared’s pursuit of him was cute. Jensen had by no means been celibate while he ignored Jared’s advances, but Jared was definitely starting to pique his interest. And Jeff was starting to get impatient. He’d understood that Jensen didn’t want to fuck around with a gangly youth, but Jared was his heir apparent and he’d grown up now and Jeff’s blessing was really more of a command than it was permission.

So one night, when they were drinking and playing X-box, Jensen didn’t put a stop to Jared’s flirting and advances. The way Jared’s eyes darkened; the way his entire demeanor shifted to that of a hungry predator, was thrilling in a way Jensen hadn’t expected. There were so many aspects of his Uncle’s business that Jared disapproved of and he was such a fun-loving, easy-going guy, that it was all too easy to forget that he was well on his way to being a shot-caller in a powerful criminal organization.

And boy did Jared know how to call the shots. Jensen hadn’t really thought about it much, but as the older, more experienced one, he’d been expecting to take the lead in their encounter.

That didn’t happen. Instead, he found himself being manhandled in a way that pushed every single one of his buttons and Jared proved that he may have been younger, but he was in no way inexperienced.

Jared was all hands and teeth and tongue, teasing and tormenting, plucking at Jensen’s nipples, stroking his cock, his long, talented fingers opening Jensen up until, slowly, but insistently. Finally, he bent Jensen over the back of the sofa and slid in deep, giving Jensen no time to adjust, just taking what he wanted, and Jensen would’ve been pissed except it hurt so goddamn good that he really couldn’t complain.

Jared carved himself a place inside of Jensen and Jensen had to admit that he enjoyed the whole thing a hell of a lot more than he’d expected to.

The more they learned each other’s bodies and desires, the better it got. They fucked daily, usually more than once, and always with a desperation that Jensen had never experienced before Jared.

Jensen could still fuck other guys...so long as Jared got to watch and direct; but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind just exactly who Jensen belonged to.

The doorbell rings again and Jensen shakes himself back into the present. He heads cautiously to the door, stopping to pick up his Glock on the way. He opens the door with the security chain latched and peers into the upturned face of Detective Meredith Keller. He shuts the door, puts the gun away and then takes the security chain off and allows the Memphis City Homicide detective into the house.

“What can I do for you, Detective?”

“I hear you’re going to see Jared today.”

Jensen inclines his head, wonders at the detective’s sources.

“Yeah. And I need to leave, right about now.”

Keller nods. “Before you go, I just wanted to show you this,” she shoves a notepad into his hands.

Jensen glances down at a series of handwritten notes; people’s names, place names, dates.

“Those are all people who the Dixie Mafia had a problem with. I say _had_ , because they’re all dead,” she gestures at the notepad, “Killed on those dates; which all just happen to line up with Jared Padalecki being in the same city as the murders for a karate tournament. Except for these two,” she takes a deep breath. “And they both line up with dates that you were in the same city as the murders for a concert. So tell me, Jensen, did Jared come with you when you played those concerts?”

Jensen shakes his head and raises one sardonic eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re not content with remanding him in a high security facility for a murder you know damn well he didn’t do; now you’re trying to make out he’s what? Some kind of assassin? You’ve got some imagination, Detective Keller.”

Detective Keller squares her shoulders. “I’m absolutely confident that Jared murdered Mark Pellegrino. He had motive and he had opportunity and he’s discussed his potential willingness to take a plea deal. That speaks to a guilty conscience, Jensen.”

Jensen snorts. “Or he could just be scared of getting fucked over by the system, even though you’ve got basically nothing. Half the city had motive to off Pellegrino. And anyway, if you’re so sure Jared’s some stone cold assassin, don’t you think he would’ve made a better job of killing Pellegrino? The guy was butchered with a carving knife!”

Keller is watching him intently. “It was a crime of passion. Jared was trying to protect you.”

Somehow, Jensen manages not to laugh. “I wasn’t in any danger from Mark.”

Keller’s face softens and she ducks her head. Jensen’s eyes harden briefly at her look of pity, but by the time she looks back at his face he’s got the doe-eyed expression of innocence that he long since perfected in front of the mirror, back in place.

“Jensen,” she says gently. “I know what Pellegrino did to you.”

Jensen’s smile is somewhat fixed. “Sorry to bust your bleeding-heart bubble, Detective, but me and Mark was completely consensual,” Jensen holds up a hand when Keller starts to speak, “and before you try and say ‘power imbalance’ or whatever,” he shakes his head, “look, an orgasm’s an orgasm and I got a lot more out of Mark than just that. Mark was in the past and Jared didn’t care anyway. Mark would bring it up sometimes, just to try to make himself feel…relevant. But Jared knows I’m _his_. He thought Mark was a pathetic loser who was going nowhere…when he bothered to think about him at all. So why would he kill him? What would be the point?”

“He can’t account for his whereabouts that night.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “If Jared wasn’t Jeff Morgan’s nephew you wouldn’t be going after him and you know it. This is a vendetta. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get going. They won’t let me in if I’m late.”

\--

Jensen spends the hour long drive to Haywood County Correctional Facility low-key worried about a lot of things.

If he’s honest with himself (and he usually is, no matter how much he lies to other people) then Keller’s laser-focus on Jared has him rattled. Some of those dates she showed him…they’re definitely cause for concern and Jensen is now having to think about a few things in a different way. It doesn’t pay to forget just how smart Jared is. Or the lengths he’ll go to for the people he loves.

Jensen’s not overly worried about how Jared is coping—he’s got good protection, but still, having your freedom taken away is never much fun. Jensen is a little more worried about how _he’s_ going to be treated when he arrives for his visit.

You see, this is no ordinary visit. Jensen won’t be speaking to Jared via a handset, through a glass partition. Jeff Morgan has greased some palms and arranged for Jared to have a conjugal visit from Jensen. And that means that Jensen will be at the mercy of whichever low-life scum prison guards Jeff was able to bribe into setting this up.

Jeff had clapped Jensen on his shoulder when they discussed it, “I don’t want this messed up for my boy,” he’d said. “Even though he’s being a stubborn pain in the ass with this plea deal bullshit. So if the scumbags decide to have a go first, you let them. We’ll make them sorry they were ever born afterwards, but if they try it on, no heroics. You lie there and think of Dixieland.”

Jensen’s hands tighten on the steering wheel and his jaw clenches.

\--

The first hint of Haywood County Correctional makes it seem like a holiday camp. There’s a carved stone monument sign with fancy wrought-iron lettering by the side of the road, announcing the prison like it’s some kind of tourist attraction.

And then Jensen rounds the curve and the razor wire comes into view.

The buildings themselves look like non-descript office blocks, at least those of them that Jensen can see from the carpark.

Jensen goes through the security scanner, gets patted down, signs in, hands over his keys, and is allowed into the visitors’ waiting room. He sits on an uncomfortable metal chair (bolted to the floor) for a good ten minutes before somebody comes to get him.

This is not a business-as-usual visit and Jensen is hurried out through a side door, down a corridor and into what he guesses is an interview room, by a furtive corrections officer, who keeps licking his lips and looking over his shoulder, his eyes darting about everywhere as he tells Jensen to strip. 

Jensen gives the guy a hard stare and the officer swallows. “Can’t go in wearing civvies,” he says. “Fold everything up and leave it on the table. Wallet and jewellery too. Gotta search you as well.”

He sounds almost apologetic.

Jensen takes his clothes off, folds them, and puts them on the table as instructed, along with his wallet. He’s not wearing any jewellery.

The officer is snapping on latex gloves and Jensen manages not to react. He fixes his eyes on the far wall as the officer runs his hands through Jensen’s hair and over his body, lifting both his feet, checking between his fingers and toes, in his ears, up his nose, down his throat, and then lifting his dick and balls and feeling all around his groin. Finally, he instructs Jensen to turn around, bend over the table and spread his ass cheeks. Jensen does so without comment and he hears the guy snort when he realizes that the lube he’d squirted onto his gloved finger wasn’t really necessary.

“Okay,” the officer says, handing Jensen a light blue collarless shirt with TDOC printed across the back in dark blue, and a dark blue pair of elastic-waisted pants. “Put these on.”

It looks like he’s going in commando; which Jensen guesses is convenient. And the prison pants will be quicker and easier to get off than his chinos. Silver linings, right? He slips his loafers back on, no socks.

Walking out of the interview room and down into the prison-proper wearing the uniform makes Jensen as uneasy as hell. What if they refuse to let him back out?

He’s taken down into solitary and let into an empty cell.

“Wait here.”

The door clangs shut and locks and Jensen swallows and sits down on the cot.

He waits.

Long moments pass and then the door opens and Jensen is on his feet, getting his first glimpse of Jared in months.

Jared has shaved his beautiful long hair into a number 2 buzz cut and Jensen mourns the long hair’s passing. That aside, his boyfriend looks remarkably good. He’s bulked up a _lot_ —no doubt he’s spending a lot of his day working out—and, Jensen tilts his head, maybe he’s getting some chemical assistance too. That much bulk; that quickly, he’s gotta be taking steroids.

The officer uncuffs Jared. “You’ve got twenty minutes,” he says and the door clangs shut again.

Jensen meets Jared’s eyes. Jared raises his chin slightly.

“So I’ve gotta ask,” Jensen says. Jared’s eyes narrow. “What’s with the hair? Because I hate it. It’s not some kind of Aryan skinhead thing is it?”

Jared throws his head back and laughs, deep and joyful. “No. It’s an ‘I hate lice’ kind of a thing,” he pauses; devouring Jensen with his eyes. “It’s good to see you, man.”

Jensen thinks that maybe he starts to reply, but then Jared is on him, hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him forward, kissing him hard enough to bruise his lips.

After that it’s a blur. Jared spins Jensen around, pushes him so that he’s leaning against the cot, chest on the mattress, ass in the air. He yanks his pants down and Jensen barely has time to be grateful that he pre-lubed before Jared is shoving into him impatiently, hot dick sliding against his ass crack for a brief moment before slamming in deep, merciless and insistent, as Jared forces Jensen’s flesh to part for him, nailing his prostrate with every thrust. Jensen’s hole _clenches_ and strains, and _fuck_ , it hurts, but _damn_ it hurts so fucking good.

Jensen has a death grip on the thin grey blanket, his thighs are shaking and he’s moaning like a two bit whore. The reach around he gets from Jared is perfunctory at best, but Jared’s hand is warm and sweaty and Jensen comes mere seconds before Jared does, hot and wet, deep inside his ass.

Jared pulls out and Jensen stifles as groan.

“Gimme a coupla minutes,” Jared says. “Then we’ll go again.”

Jensen snorts. Twice in less than twenty minutes? That’ll be impressive. He thinks they can do it though.

Jared manhandles Jensen onto the cot and they lie together, side-by-side.

Jensen’s spent and his ass aches something fierce, but he’s not going to say no if Jared can manage a round two. It’s been way too long since he got properly fucked, the way only Jared can do it.

For his part, Jared seems content to lie with Jensen in his arms, damp and sweaty and so damn pleased with himself.

Jensen hates to bring down the mood, but they have to talk.

“Detective Keller came to see me today,” he says.

“Yeah?” Jared says after a beat.

His tone is casual, uninterested, but Jensen _felt_ the way Jared tensed at the Detective’s name, so he knows better.

“She showed me a list. Names of people killed. Dates. Karate tournaments.”

Jared pulls Jensen around to face him. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are dark expressionless pits.

“You got something you wanna ask me, Jensen?”

Jensen smiles. He cups Jared’s face and pulls him down for a kiss.

“You ready for round two?” he asks.

It’s clearly not the question Jared was expecting, but he answers it by pushing Jensen over onto his stomach and rolling on top of him, slamming his dick home, relentless and inescapable. Jared drills him like a jackhammer and the friction of the mattress against his dick is the perfect counterpoint to the painful, heated _fullness_ of his ass.

“Fuck yeah, take it,” Jared growls.

“C’mon, Jay,” Jensen goads. “Give it to me good.”

Jared does, and Jensen has to bite the back of his hand to stop himself from howling out loud when he comes. Jared follows suit a few thrusts later, basks for a few short moments and then pulls out.

“C’mon,” he says. “Better get cleaned up and dressed before the Screw comes back.”

Their time is nearly over and it wasn’t long enough. Not nearly long enough.

“You believe me, right?” Jared says when they’re re-dressed, his eyes wide and pleading. “That I didn’t kill, Pellegrino?”

Jensen nods. “Of course I do.”

“And…the other people?”

Jensen stands on tiptoes and whispers in Jared’s ear. Jared’s eyes widen. Jensen steps back and smiles, just as the correction officer’s keys begin to rattle in the lock outside.

“I’ve got an interstate concert this weekend,” Jensen says. “I’m playing First Violin. Wish me luck.”

The cell reeks of sweat and semen and the officer wrinkles his nose. “C’mon,” he says to Jared, cuffing him quickly. “Let’s go.”

Jensen watches Jared leave. They’re on the same page now, he thinks. So hopefully, Jared will drop the plea deal bullshit and the cops will have to figure out who actually killed Mark. 

Back in his cell, Jared stares at the wall opposite as he processes the series of bombshells Jensen just dropped on him. Suddenly a lot of things are making so much more sense. He puts a hand to the side of his head and feels the phantom buzz of Jensen’s lips as he whispered against the shell of Jared’s ear:

_“Well I know which ones I killed, Jay. And going by some of those dates Keller showed me, I figure the ones I didn’t were your kills. And for the record, I didn’t kill Pellegrino, so you can stop trying to protect me from that and work on coming home. Because, Jared? I think it’s about time your Uncle retired.”_

Jared smiles. The timing’s not right for a takeover, but he likes his boyfriend’s thinking. Slowly, he gets up from his cot and heads out to the guard house.

“I need to see Detective Keller,” he says. “And my lawyer.”

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: _One of the Js is a mob boss. The other is his boyfriend (can be his right-hand man as well). The mob boss ends up in prison. They could never make any charges stick when it comes to his boyfriend.  
>  J2 haven't touched each other in months, stuck making conversation on phone and gazing at each other through glass, but finally, they get conjugal. Fuck, they're desperate._
> 
> Instead I delivered the Murder Husbands AU that Nobody Asked for...But I guess it was...kind of close?


End file.
